


Resonance

by ladyshadowdrake



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-21 04:20:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19995754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyshadowdrake/pseuds/ladyshadowdrake
Summary: His head was empty. There was no note of Bucky’s steady thrum, or Peggy’s heavy drumbeat, none of the Commandos’ cacophony of tones. His bonds were all achingly, terrifyingly quiet.In a world where everyone has a subtle aura of music, Steve Rogers has woken up seven decades too late to resonate with anyone.





	Resonance

**Author's Note:**

> Originally a fill for my 2017 Stony Bingo card. You can find the original post here: https://lightshadowverisimilitude.tumblr.com/post/163844710220/resonance-1

The sense of _wrong_ hit Steve before he’d even opened his eyes, but he wasn’t sure why. He breathed slowly and tried to work it out, but there were a lot of things that were immediately – though subtly – off. He was in a hospital bed. Easy enough to recognize from all the time he’d spent there as a kid, but the bed was long enough for him to be stretched out completely flat. He hadn’t been able to lay flat in a bed without his feet hanging off the end since before the serum.

At the sound of traffic and honking horns, he turned his head to look out the window. The familiar press of New York buildings was just outside, but something about the view looked flat. The air through the open window smelled weird. A radio was playing softly on the sideboard, and even that sounded strange. Too clear, and too familiar. He put it down to déjà vu as he sat up and looked around. He was wearing an SSR t-shirt that stretched too tight across his chest. Even the material felt strange.

The last thing he remembered was nosing the Valkyrie down into the water.

The door opened, and a woman stepped into the room. Just like the rest of the surroundings, she was subtly _off_. He watched her carefully as she smiled and let the door close, her faint resonance tone growing louder as she neared. She had a tone like no one he’d ever known. Something about it reminded him of Tesla coils and Howard’s strange devices. Her tone clashed so hard with his that it was actively repulsive. He found himself leaning away from her, and her smile faltered.

She started to speak, but Steve’s pulse abruptly rose to overwhelm everything except the sound of their dissonant tones clashing – that was what had been wrong. It wasn’t what was _there_ , it was what _wasn’t._ His head was empty. There was no note of Bucky’s steady thrum, or Peggy’s heavy drumbeat, none of the Commandos’ cacophony of tones. His bonds were all achingly, terrifyingly quiet.

Steve stood up abruptly. The girl jumped. “Who are you?” Steve demanded. He heard it when her tone overlaid with a fast shriek of fright, but her uneasiness just made him positive that something fishy was going on. “Where am I?”

“C-Captain Rogers…” she said, taking a step back from him even as she tried to smile comfortingly. “Please calm down.”

The radio broadcast caught his attention again, and he realized that it wasn’t just déjà vu. The broadcast was familiar because he’d been at that game. Ignoring the girl and her stammering platitudes, he examined the room again – everything was fake, every bit of it staged. Over the thunder of his pulse and the aching absence of his soulbonds, he could hear other noises beyond the walls. They had the echoing quality of being in a very large space with very high ceilings. The walls were obviously thin – he could see where they’d been joined together like the plywood panels of a stage set.

Backing away from the woman – whoever she was, Nazi infiltrator or spy – Steve ran at one of the walls between the seams. He broke through it like tearing through paper, startling dozens of people on the other side. He was barefoot, but it didn’t matter. Steve ran, baffled by the facility. It looked like nothing he’d ever seen, not in New York, not in Europe, not on the Hydra bases. He ended up on the street of some kind of bustling metropolis with strange cars whizzing by. People jumped out of his way as he plowed through the crowds. Everything was so loud. The usual background hum of resonate tones in crowded spaces was overwhelming. Everywhere he turned, dozens of unfamiliar tones shrieked at him, all of them clashing against his own. He felt dizzy and sick to his stomach. After the initial escape from the facility, he wasn’t even running from anyone – he was running from everyone.

The familiar shape of Times Square finally brought him to a halt. He stared at it all in horror, turning useless circles. Ads playing actual resonate tones thundered above him, all the people with their clamoring tones, the cars, the impossibly bright, clear lights making the ads glow even in the middle of the day. Giant black automobiles like small, sleek tanks converged on him, and he didn’t even try to run. He was in New York, or dreaming, or this was someone’s version of the afterlife. Where was he supposed to run to? His legs felt suddenly weak.

“You’ve been asleep for a while, Cap,” a tall Black man in a billowing leather jacket told him. He had a dozen armored people behind them, and more were pouring out of the surrounding tanks.

Steve searched his grizzled face for a clue to what was going on. “Where…?” he asked, and nearly threw up when the man told him he was ‘home.’ “The war?”

“We won. Come back with me, and we’ll get you straightened out.”

 _Straightened out_. The phrase made him flinch automatically. He took a hesitant step backwards. The armed people all tensed. He was in some hellscape’s reimagining of ‘home’ and every tone around him screamed with foreign music. His bonds were all gone – there would be no Bucky coming around the corner, summoned by Steve's distress, no Peggy striding out of the alley with her handgun out in front of her. He was alone.

“My name is Nick Fury,” the man said. He didn’t offer his hand, but he came close enough for Steve to hear his tone. Slow, measured, and undercut by a resounding bass pulse that Steve could feel in his bones. They didn’t resonate exactly, but they didn’t clash either.

Steve hesitated. “What year is it?” he asked without wanting to know the answer. He knew that whatever year it was, it was a year that didn’t have Peggy or Bucky or his Commandos in it – did it really matter, stacked up against that? “How long?”

Fury watched him carefully with his one eye, head tipped slightly like a bird to bring Steve into focus. “Seventy years, Cap.”

The world went fuzzy around the edges. He felt himself swaying. How could he possibly make sense of _seventy years?_ How could he still be standing? He looked down at his hands. They were just like he remembered them, smooth and strong, free from even the faintest of scars.

Curling his fingers into his palms, he looked up. “How?”

Fury turned his body to make an inviting gesture back toward one of the giant automobiles. “Come with me, and we’ll get it figured out.”

Steve looked around again. He had no idea who Fury was, or what kind of organization he belonged to. They’d already tried to trick him once. The spectacle had gathered a crowd and people were watching them curiously, but the armed guards who’d jumped out of the cars were holding the onlookers back. No one seemed especially confused by their presence, and they were reacting as if these black-clad people were police of some kind. S.H.I.E.L.D was stamped on the side of one of the vehicles in a very official-looking gray logo.

Following his gaze, Fury explained, “SHIELD is what the SSR became after you… well. Margaret Carter and Howard Stark had a reason for the name, I guess.” He nodded respectfully toward Steve.

The names punched a deep hole in him. He felt his shoulders slumping. Even if these people were tricking him, even if they meant him some kind of harm, what did it matter? Not even the shallow bond he’d had with Howard was still there. He had no one to fight for anymore.

Nodding jerkily, he followed Fury’s gesture to the vehicle and let a man in black body armor open the door for him.


End file.
